


trippin on skies

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, M/M, frat!Lance, frat!Shiro, it's 5am help me, there are some ocs but they're not important ha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-13 04:48:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I know what you’re gonna say, but we’re having a little thing over at the frat house this weekend. You should stop by in between a study break. How can you say no to puppies?" </p><p>lance is in a frat, keith sets himself up for disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. pups and pops

“Lance, I’m not going to one of your stupid frat events.”

Pidge shuts their MacBook, shoving it into their leather book bag and stood up from their spot in the lawn outside the school library. They stretched their arms out before heading away—far, far, away—from the disturbance, otherwise known as Lance Sanchez, of their peaceful afternoon. It was midterms week and studying was a priority.

“Oh, come on Pidge!” Lance trailed after them, holding the flyer for their “Puppies and Popsicles” social this Saturday. He was entrusted by one of his older frat brothers to promote the event, but it wasn’t going so well seeing as midterms were coming up. Except Lance had made the flyers himself and was quite proud with the way they turned out and needed appreciation for his hard work.

“I have a lot of studying to do. My chem professor gave us a ten page study guide that I haven’t even started on thanks to my British lit essay.”

“But Pidge—!”

“Don’t you have studying to do as well? Or do all you frat boys get away with cheating off old tests from former students?”

Lance stopped in his tracks, his jaw dropped wide open in response to their harsh words.

“I study!” Although he knew whatever he said would have no effect on their opinion whatsoever. Nevertheless, he continued to follow his friend, putting the paper back in his backpack defeated.

“At least tell people about it then,” he told them, “Shiro wanted me to bring in as many people as possible.”

Pidge sighed, pulling their phone out, “I’ll text Hunk about it then.”

A wide grin spread across Lance’s face at that and he fist bumped the air in excitement. “Yes! Thank you! Pidge, did I ever tell you how much I love you?”

“Not enough,” they said, making a left for the chem department, “I gotta go see my TA. I’ll catch up with you later?”

Lance nodded, fidgeting with his black baseball cap before setting it on backwards. He noticed Pidge’s eye roll, muttering something under their breath at how “stereotypically frat” he could be, before walking the opposite direction. He merely chuckled, glad his years of friendship with Pidge taught him their teasing meant nothing but good fun.

His phone buzzed, a text from his mom asking why his bank account was so low (he _really_ needed to stop spending money on food. But midterms season left him hungrier than usual, and the fridge in the frat house had little to nothing to offer), but when he read the time he realized he had stats in ten minutes. Lance groaned, debating on whether or not he should skip, and opted on going because, well, midterms. His phone went straight back into his pocket, the text from his mom ignored, and he picked up his pace to make it to class on time. 

+

Keith yawned, laying back on the hammock situated outside the history building. It was one of the school’s hidden spots that he had taken a liking to since freshman year, mostly because it was quite secluded from the hustle and bustle of students. Additionally, not many people knew about it. He set his textbooks down on the grass underneath, pulling his phone out to check any messages. One from his lab partner, and that was it. He decided to reply back later, it didn’t seem that urgent anyway, and clicked open the Instagram app.

The first post, not to his surprise, was by his old roommate, now friend, Shiro, advertising for one of his frat events. That’s all that ever really showed up on his feed these days, most students too busy studying for exams to be posting anything, or if they did post, it was of them studying at some cafe (which bothered Keith, because if they had the time to post on social media, were they _actually_ getting work done?). He glanced at Shiro’s post, the words “Puppies and Popsicles” in big bold font overarching the details of the event. It wasn’t too long now until the man himself texted him about it, trying to persuade him to come and check it out. Every time, without fail, Shiro would be there to invite him to his frat events, and every time, without fail, Keith would turn him down, bluntly telling his friend he’d rather be watching Netflix. If it irked the older man, he didn’t tell Keith.

And right on cue, his phone dinged.

Shiro: I know what you’re gonna say, but we’re having a little thing over at the frat house this weekend. You should stop by in between a study break. How can you say no to puppies?

Following after that, a crying emoji. Keith couldn't help but smile a bit at his friends persistence. He started typing out his response.

Keith: Love puppies. Hate frat boys.

Shiro: Oh come on, you love me.

Keith: Ur the .0001% that’s tolerable.

The ellipsis popped up to let Keith know Shiro was typing, and then it was suddenly gone. Keith assumed he simply was busy, and put his phone back in his grey hoodie. It was 6:12 and he was done with classes for today. A nice power nap would be good before he went to pick something to eat for dinner. His eyelids began to shut close, the soft evening breeze gently moving the hair away from his face, although chilling his exposed ankles slightly. He adjusted himself in a comfortable napping position and sleep swiftly began to take over him.

“Keith!” A familiar voice shouted as soon as he had begun his slumber.

His eyes flew up, a horizontal Shiro ( _God, of course_ ) approaching him at a slow jog.

“Keith!” Upon hearing his name shouted again, as if the younger man hadn’t heard him the first time, he sat up to see Shiro, vertical and upright now, before him.

“Dude, I was napping.”

“Sorry,” he apologetically chuckled, taking a seat next to Keith on the hammock, “I saw you while I was coming out the building.”

Keith nodded, rubbing his eyes with a sigh, “What’s up?”

He looked over at Shiro, noticing he was wearing his glasses and had his notebook in his arms. Probably just got out of lecture, he assumed.

The fourth year placed a flyer for his event on his lap.

“I saw. And heard. And no,” Keith grumbled, although less irritated than he sounded because it truly warmed his heart that his friend never forgot to invite him to his events. He would never tell him that though, except he presumed Shiro already knew with his keen intuition and whatnot.

“Yeah, I know, just take it anyway, if you change your mind. I know you love puppies. It’s this Saturday, 1pm. It’ll be fun! There will be music, and yes, the ‘trashy’ music I know you hate, but I think lots of people will be coming out. It’ll be good to see you.”

Keith remained silent for a while, and just stared at the piece of paper in his hands, all the bright colors and flashy font that jumped out at him almost hurting his eyes. Whoever designed this did a God awful job.

“… will Trevor be there?”

“Um, yeah,” Shiro cleared his throat awkwardly and continued, “yeah, probably.”

“Then no.”

“Keith,” he looked at him sternly, a look that made Keith think that’s why he was chosen President of Sigma Chi, “I won’t let him bother you again. He’s not even a part of our frat, if anything we can just kick him out.”

They were met with silence again. The breeze picked up, rustling the leaves by their feet and blowing the wind chimes on the trees hard enough, yet still softly, for it to produce its sweet sounds. Eventually Keith got up, dusting his jeans off.

“I’ll think about it,” he mumbled, ignoring the way Shiro’s face lit up so enthusiastically. Before he had anything to say about it, Keith changed the subject.

“C’mon, let’s go get something to eat.”

+

“Sí mama…. _sí_.”

Lance rolled his eyes, thankful his mom was miles away from him and couldn’t smack his arm through the phone. Still, she could hear his attitude and continued to remind him a two hour drive to put him in check wasn’t too bad.

Pidge and Hunk snickered at their friend, though despite the language barrier, knew that Lance was getting a good, hard scolding. He shot them a glare and flipped them off, but that only coaxed them further.

“Mama, I have to study now, bye, I love you.”

He hung up abruptly before throwing his phone on Hunk’s couch, as well as his entire body.

“How’s your mom?” Hunk asked after he and Pidge were done laughing between themselves over Lance’s dismay.

Although his mom couldn’t actually do anything about how Lance spends his money, because he does earn it himself (“well earned at that!” Lance exclaimed), it doesn’t stop her from lecturing him about it regardless.

“She’s good,” he replied, his voice muffled with his face planted straight in the fluffy cushioned pillow.

“Oh, by the way Lance, I’ve decided that I’ll go to your pups and pops thing this weekend. I could use some dog therapy amongst all the stress that’s accumulating in my life. Also Hunk's convinced me," Pidge said, throwing a pencil on his butt.

“Awww,” Lance lifted his face off the pillow to coo at them, “I knew you couldn’t resist! Well that’s good, Shiro’s been wanting you two to meet Allura. Been pestering me about bringing you guys over to the house for a week now.”

“So what, are they dating now?” Hunk raised an eyebrow as he continued to munch on banana chips, “because I swear you’ve been saying they’ve been talking for like 2 months now.”

“I don’t know really. I think so? I don’t know.” Pidge and Hunk shrugged in unison and both proceeded on studying their courses. Or well, however much studying they could do surrounded among each other.

“I’ll make sure to save a mango flavor for you Hunk and strawberry for you Pidge,” Lance noted more to himself than to the duo. They simply hummed in response. He kicked his legs up in the air and swung them around, staring at the chipping paint on the wall, and then decided he was in fact bored after a good minute.

“Study Lance,” Pidge said, as if they read his mind, “I know you already finished one midterm but you have two next week.”

“Yeah but I’m pretty confident about my gov class, and I studied earlier this morning for pysch.”

Despite saying that aloud, he knew he should probably be doing something productive. Convincing himself alone wouldn’t get him A’s. He huffed, hoisting himself off the couch to take a seat on the small kitchen table next to his friends. 

"Only three more days until the weekend,” he said to himself, “you can do it.” He remembered someone in the frat house one day venting about self motivation actually working, but he had to admit, it was currently doing nada for him. Hunk patted his shoulder sympathetically and handed him his psych textbook.

“My lab partner still hasn’t texted me back yet,” Pidge complained with their phone clutched in their hand as if their life depended on it, “We need to finish our lab write up sometime this week for Christ’s sake!”

“Who is it?” Lance nonchalantly asked, flipping his textbook mindlessly, not even quite sure where to start.

“His name’s Keith. Our year.”

“Don’t know,” Hunk said, to which Lance seconded.

“He’s alright. Pretty boy honestly, probably your type Lance.”

“Who isn’t his type?” Hunk chortled, “anything with legs—”

“Not true,” Lance cut him off, knowing where this was headed, “I have standards you know.”

“Only kidding buddy,” Hunk assured him immediately and offered him a banana chip while doing so. Lance snatched the chip and eased his glare.

“Let’s just study,” Pidge butted in, also taking a banana chip, “you’re gonna make me lose my focus.”

+

The weekend came too quickly, and Lance and his frat brothers found themselves at 12:39pm rushing to prepare for the event. They had all slept in a bit too late and were in the process of frantically putting it all together.

“Can you bring the coolers out?” Lance asked some of the new pledges, who hurriedly listened to their upperclassmen. He rolled up the sleeves of his white t-shirt, regretting not just wearing a tank top instead.

“Alright, lift,” he told his frat brother, Ralph, carrying the other end of the table, “we’ll set it by the hose over there.”

Once the table was set down, coolers brought out, and scattered beer cans collected into a trash bag, they brought out the puppies. Lance was thankful he wasn’t working as cashier, leaving him plenty of time to socialize but, more importantly, play with all the pups.

“Okay everyone,” Shiro called out, standing in the center of the backyard, “let’s sell a lot of popsicles today, yeah?”

A chorus of “yeah’s” and whoops and hollers of 20 or so frat boys filled the air, and Lance felt excitement building up. He always found it fun holding events like such, more so than all the parties (though, those were fun too), one of the main reasons he stuck with Greek life since freshman year.

One of his brothers tossed him a beer can, which probably isn’t the healthiest thing having first thing in the day, but oh well. He opened it immediately, his throat feeling dry.

Shiro was manning the table, naturally since everyone would flock over there if he was there. He was a magnet really, such a warm and inviting character people adored.

Once the gate to their yard was open, the space gradually became more and more full, with puppies jumping excitedly at the guests and music blasting loud enough to probably annoy the neighbor's studying.

Lance chugged his beer down, throwing it in the recycle bin before grabbing a water bottle. He checked his phone to see if either Hunk or Pidge texted in the group chat to let him know when they would be arriving.

Hunk: We’ll be there around 1:30!

Pidge: 1:45* I woke up late.

Lance stuffed his phone back in his pocket full of change and started making his rounds around the crowds, seeing familiar faces as well as not so familiar ones. He was an overtly friendly person, easily talking to people and cracking jokes (even if they weren’t so funny).

“Lance let’s go grab lunch next week!”

“We gotta catch up dude!”

“Let me know when you’re free!”

He beamed at everyone, conversation after conversation making him forget the stress of exams week.

“Hey Lance,” a distinguishable voice spoke behind him.

He turned around to meet face to face with Allura, and every time he saw her he thought to himself, _Does Shiro really deserve her?_

But yeah, he does, since it’s Shiro.

“Hey! Your man’s a bit busy, why don’t you play with some of the puppies?” He picked one up by his feet, a cute little Pomeranian that he believed belonged to Pete, or was it Ben?, and handed him to her.

“Oh!” She giggled, taking the puppy thrusted upon her, “thanks Lance. Shiro told me your friends would be here, he wanted me to meet them?”

“Right! Yeah, they just aren’t here yet,” he checked his digital watch. 1:37. “They’ll be here soon!”

She nodded, cuddling the caramel colored Pomeranian close to her chest, going on about how cute this whole idea was. Lance, jealous slightly, picked up another dog close by his feet, this one a light brown/white Corgi named Winnie. He nuzzled her close to his face, laughing as he watched her lick all over his cheek.

“Did you get a popsicle? I think Shiro might’ve saved one for you,” he told her, lowering the Corgi to meet her gaze.

“Yeah, actually, I’m gonna try and squeeze my way over to him now. Just call me over when your friends arrive!” Lance nodded, letting her go off with the puppy.

It wasn’t long before someone took her place, chatting to Lance about their women’s studies class. 

+

Keith stood in front of the frat house. The big Greek letters hanging from the balcony letting him know he was in the right place. Well, and that distasteful music was also a good give away.

Hesitant in going in, he paced back and forth until he realized people were staring at him probably thinking he was crazy.

 _I have nothing to be nervous about. I can handle it_ he told himself repeatedly. 

He grit his teeth, making his way past the two greeters by the gate. The volume gradually picked up as he inched closer inside.

The place was packed, how would he even find Shiro in this crowd? He panicked a bit, wondering if he should just head back.

But there were the puppies and they were yelping so cutely and oh man, golden retrievers. He bent down to pet the pup, looking at it’s name tag. Archer.

“Hey buddy, hey Archer,” he said quietly, petting his head softly. The puppy leaned to his touch instantly and licked his palm, that is, until an Australian shepherd raced by and he chased after.

Keith stood up, ready to find his way towards Shiro until he was met with a face he definitely did not come to see.

He hasn’t seen his ex since last school year, the school was so big thank God so running into him wasn’t so common. And he was over him, really, but seeing him was still a pain in the ass. Trevor was in another frat, but honestly all frat boys mingled together so it was expected he’d be here.

“Keith,” he spoke, already walking towards him.

 _Oh no_. He wanted to run, he didn’t want to deal with this, not today, not ever, and this is precisely why he didn’t want to come to this stupid outing. God dammit puppies.

Yet here he was, planted in the ground, unable to bring himself to move. The sun was hitting right at him, _why did I wear a fucking black T-shirt_ he thought, and Keith just wanted to dig up a hole right there and hide until this was over.

Trevor still hadn’t reached him yet, Keith feeling very grateful for all the people that were in his way. His eyes tried to look anywhere but him—his hair grew, Keith noticed—but there were a lot of faces and too much going on, and he just wanted to see some puppies and get a fucking popsicle, why did it have to come to this.

“Pidge! Hunk!” He heard someone shout next to him, a tan hand waving to his friends while the other hand held the cutest Corgi Keith has ever laid eyes on.

“Keith!” Trevor’s voice ringed again, and he wished he could mute it out, in fact, delete his ex entirely. Forever.

Instead, he turned to the dude with the Corgi calling his friends out and pulled on his white T-shirt. The stranger looked confused, his eyebrows scrunched up and his dark blue eye widened. Keith was sure he himself looked nothing but frantic, feeling way too hot thanks to the blazing sun.

“My ex is right there, you need to kiss me,” Keith said to the guy, and he knows, _he knows_ , he sounds absolutely crazy and way out of his head right now but Trevor is _right there_ and he can’t think of anything else to do.

“Wait, what?” The stranger exclaims, though he doesn’t push him away, more like people are pushing them closer together.

He can feel the Corgi in his arms squirming against him, and the music sounds louder and the bass is about to drop soon, he knows because this is how all these songs sound like. There are seven different conversations going on around him and he might just explode if he hears Trevor’s voice one more time. He notices a light rose blush begin to color the tan stranger’s face, his lips slightly open—almost inviting—and Keith thinks he isn’t too bad looking, and he’s probably in this God forsaken frat anyway and kisses strangers more often than not.

A switch goes off in Keith’s head that just says “fuck it” and he leans forward, maybe a bit too forcefully, and smashes their lips together.


	2. the aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to misquote game of thrones, autumn is coming

Lance doesn’t have the slightest idea of what the hell is going on, but he sees his friends across the yard searching around (looking for him, most likely) and he would’ve made his way over there if this random dude wasn’t _clinging onto his sweaty shirt for his damn life._

“…you need to kiss me,” is all he hears uttered from the shorter guy, he doesn’t catch the beginning part since a voice to the right of him was shrieking over a puppy biting her finger. And then he suddenly remembers he has a puppy in his own arm, putting distance from the stranger who was being drawn towards him thanks to the surrounding bodies.

“Wait, _what?_ ” He finally finds words to say. And, to be completely honest, it wouldn’t be the first time a random person pulled him in and locked lips. Except that usually required more shots and a darker room with flashing neon lights, and he was pretty sure it was still noon and this event was alcohol-free unless you knew a guy. 

He wasn’t given much time to think about it, the dude looked desperate and this event was supposed to be fun so _what on earth was this guy so anxious about_ , because his lips were suddenly up against the others more aggressively than he expected it to be. 

So yeah, he was kissing this stranger, feeling more sober than not, and his friends were lost looking for him (he could feel his phone ringtone go off in his pocket, probably either of them calling to ask where he was). Although the guilt of leaving them hanging doesn’t consume him as much as it should have.

The bass drops on whatever song is playing and Lance feels the grip on his shirt tighten. Winnie shifts in his arms, uncomfortable no doubt, squished between two people, and that should’ve been a good enough reason for him to pull away (as if him being a complete stranger wasn’t a already good enough one), but he doesn’t make a move. With his eyes still slightly opened, he could see the guy’s face much closer now. Pale skin, paler than normal pale—due to his panic state Lance guessed—long eyelashes, his ears are quite cute, hair a mess, nice volume to it though—

It isn’t Lance that pulls away eventually. The stranger is looking in a direction away from him and sighs in relief, the frantic frenzy washed off his face completely.  However, he doesn’t seem to pay any mind to Lance. On the contrary, he starts to head off, unfazed.

“Uh, dude?” Lance brings his attention back to him before he could escape, waving his open arm across his face, “what was that about?”

He sets the Corgi down and she instantly runs away, probably to someone else with less drama to handle right now. 

The stranger finally looks up at Lance and then shifts his gaze. “Sorry,” is all he says. A pink tint spreads across his cheeks and he looks like he wants to run away. 

The taller smirks at the sight, folding his arms across his chest proudly, “I mean I know I’m cute, but listen—”

His attitude turns sour at Lance’s cockiness and he scoffs, “Don’t flatter yourself, my ex was right there.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Hey Lance,” a frat brother claps his back while passing by him, followed by three others. He nods at them, a grin immediately plastered on his face and then turns back to the stranger with nice eyelashes, whose name he has yet to receive.

“What’s your name?”

“Keith.”

“Lance.”

Neither of them say anything for quite some time, but when they do, it’s conveniently at the same time.

“Listen—”

“Hey—”

“You go first, Keith,” Lance tests out his name on his tongue, which he could tell surprised the other. It surprises himself, too.

“Sorry for kissing you like that. I didn’t know what else to do,” he tells him, his hands going to his pockets. Lance noticed he also had on a pair of black jeans, and wondered how was the guy surviving in this heat with that outfit. He himself was barely getting by with his rolled up tee and khaki shorts.

For lack of other words to say, since he was 88% sure Keith caught him checking him out, he went for dumb banter.

“Aren’t you glad you chose a strapping lad like myself then?”

Keith groaned, resting his face in his hands in anguish, “Ugh, I’m already regretting it, frat boy.”

“I told you my name already,” Lance stated, offended at the name calling, “and how do you know I’m in this frat anyway.”

“Uh, I dunno, four white meatheads just patted you in the back. And your shirt has your Greek letters on it.”

Well Lance felt very stupid. He looked away and gave an awkward cough. To the side of him were Pidge and Hunk approaching, both with popsicles and napkins in their hands. 

His face lit up at the sight of his friends. “Oh, hey! Sorry I, um, didn’t see you guys come in.”

“Dude, Pidge called you like three times,” Hunk took a big bite of his mango popsicle.

“All good, we ended up seeing Allura and Shiro. She’s cool. We also bumped into a few students from class, so don’t assume we’re incompetent without you Lance. What have you been— Keith?”

Pidge tilted their head past Lance to see the other figure among them. 

“I thought you said you didn’t know Keith,” they said, and Lance doesn’t miss the bitterness that lies in their voice.

“Hold up, _this_ is your lab partner?” Lance almost screeched, pointing a finger accusingly at the boy behind him.

“I have a name you know,” Keith mocked Lance’s words from earlier, to which he rolled his eyes over.

“So you two just met then,” Pidge confirmed to them and Hunk, who was way too busy talking to a German shepherd to pay attention to what was going on.

“I’m gonna go, see you in class Pidge,” Keith waved off, not even sparing Lance a look before walking away from the trio.

“Hey hey hey, slow down their pal.” There was no way Lance was just gonna let him leave without getting… _what do I want from him again?_ he pondered. Too late anyway, he had already grasped Keith’s arm.

“I said I’m sorry already,” Keith hissed, easily breaking free from his hold (he was holding on very lightly, Lance reasons). Where they’re standing is farther away from the speakers, the music seeming significantly quieter compared to where they were earlier. He could hear Keith’s voice clearer.

"Yeah, but,” he stammered, not sure where he’s going with this, “that’s it?”

“What do you want from me? That kiss meant nothing dude.”

That hits Lance right in the chest, it shouldn’t because he knows nothing about this guy other than his name and that he’s Pidge’s lab partner, but it does. Though he tries not to make it too obvious.

“I know,” he catches himself quickly, not letting his hurt show (because he _is_ pretty, Pidge was right) and takes the cap off his head to run his fingers through his hair before setting it back on. He’s stalling. 

“So…?” Keith persists, his irritation made obvious with the tone of his voice. 

And Lance has dealt with rejection before, more times than he’d like to admit to anyone (except for Hunk, he can tell Hunk anything). His freshman year was hands down the worst, turns out just being in a frat alone didn’t make you automatically attractive, so yes, he went through the whole “what do you mean not everyone likes me” crisis and he’s mature now, he understands. Yet for some reason, he couldn’t accept this. He can’t even blame it on alcohol since he only had one measly Bud Light, so maybe he’ll blame it on not having any action recently, or the stress of midterms had got into his head. Or maybe, _maybe_ , Keith is just that attractive and he’s sorta reeled in after that kiss. 

He decides it’s the midterms stress instead. Definitely stress. 

“You don’t want my number or anything?” He settles for, and he immediately wants to shoot himself in the face because he knows how stupid that sounds. 

Keith says nothing, which makes it even more awkward than it already is, so Lance responds with nervous laughter.

“I’m gonna go now,” is all he says, and dashes away from Keith’s sight. 

+

It’s been a week since the incident at the frat house, and by now students were free from exams. Except with an essay due next week and a quiz on Friday, Keith decided college students were never free from the constant studying and work. He dwells on that realization a bit until the Starbucks barista calls his order out, a tall iced caramel macchiato. 

In contrast to the past weekend, the temperature had started to drop a few degrees, autumn slowly nudging summer out the way. It was Keith’s favorite season, he felt at his peak when dark orange and brown tones began to surface along with pumpkin flavored _everything_ (he was a sucker for pumpkin pie, a fact not many knew about him). Not to mention it wasn’t scorching hot in the morning which meant he didn’t need to wake up at 6am to avoid the heat for a jog and he could wake up at 9, or even 11 instead.

He still had a solid hour and a half to kill before his lecture, and usually he would be relaxing in the comfort of his bed, but he was already uncharacteristically up and out since he had to drop by his professor’s office earlier. 

His favorite hammock spot was on the other end of the campus, and he was feeling too lazy to walk all the way there when his lecture hall was closer to this end. Several options popped into mind as he continued to walk aimlessly, taking a sip now and then from his drink. Head to the gym? He didn’t bring any extra change of clothes though. Do work in the library? He’d rather procrastinate. Check out the new display in the art department? That would be nice. 

Except all thoughts flew out his head when he saw Lance.

It wasn’t the first time he’s seen him since that weekend, but it was the first time where he wasn’t rushing to make it to class or in the midst of homework. Now, he had all the time in the world (or, well, an hour and a half) to gaze at him. 

He was walking with two other guys, his frat brothers it seemed, and they were bursting in laughter over something Lance said. They were a distance away from Keith, enough that they probably wouldn’t notice him oddly staring at them. 

However, it was his first time seeing the other without a cap on his head, nor a disgusting sports jersey paired with shorts. No, he was wearing a blue short sleeved button up today, the color looked nice against his tan complexion, and nice fitting black slacks. He didn’t adorn his flip flops either, but a pair of _actual_ white shoes. Keith didn’t think the guy owned any shoes other than flip flops. 

Lance looked good. 

He shook his head, shifting away from the view.

Okay so he might’ve been an asshole to Lance that day. But in his defense, he had just seen his ex, and Lance’s jaunty conceitedness wasn’t helping his mood.

It wasn’t until he had gone back to his apartment that day that it dawned upon him. The two had actually been in a class together. It was his freshman year, astronomy class. Lance was the type of student that asked a lot of questions, and while most students found it annoying and silently groaned and cursed at Lance under their breath (Keith did too, sometimes), he admired the eagerness of the other. And in his favor, many of the questions Lance asked were ones he had himself, though he planned on just Googling it at the end of lecture. Lance always sat front row, too. 

When he turned back, all he saw was a pack of girls hunched over looking at a phone screen. 

His drink was nearly gone now, only ice left. He threw it in the nearest recycle bin and spotted an old bench. The quaintness of this particular area of the campus appealed to him (he never spent time anywhere else other than the hammock), thus he decided to take advantage of it and be productive. 

He pulled his laptop out it’s black sleeve. However, while he intended on using it to work on his thesis, he ended up on Facebook typing Lance’s name. It was clawing in the back of his head and he couldn’t help it. Except Lance hadn’t given him his last name and going through every Lance on Facebook would be ridiculous. 

And then he remembered he’s in the same frat as Shiro. Go through Shiro’s Facebook!

He kind of hated himself for doing this, but he did it anyway, and there Lance was. Lance Sanchez. His profile picture was of him and another guy, both dressed in suits. It wasn’t recent, he noticed, Lance’s hair was shorter in this picture. 

Once again, he hated himself for even knowing that based off seeing his hair for the first time today for like, two seconds.

He had a lot of friends on Facebook, expected, but he didn’t post much. 

Maybe he was more of an Instagram guy.

Keith reached for his phone before realizing how stupid he was being and stopped himself. He took a deep breath, pulling Microsoft Word open to begin working on his damned paper. 

+

Even though Hunk was chatting up a good looking guy he recognized was in his environmental science class, Lance had to butt in to take his friend away.

“Bro, really, I didn’t even get his number,” Hunk protested despite letting his friend drag him off. 

“He’s in my class, I’ll slide him your digits on Monday,” Lance said as his apology and stopped in front of his car. 

“Whatever man. What do you need?”

Lance gestured to the inside of his car, specifically the laundry basket with a pile of dirty clothes. 

“I am _not_ doing your laundry for you.”

Lance guffawed, “I’m not asking you to do my laundry for me, jeez. I’m out of detergent and I happen to like the smell of yours, so can I use some? You can’t say no, I’m driving you back to your apartment to save you from the walk.”

Hunk agreed, he would’ve agreed regardless, and opened the door to the passenger seat. When Lance started up the car, the radio was already set on a Latino station with a volume too high that was turned down after it blasted their eardrums. 

“How was class?” 

“Tiring,” Hunk answers, then continues to talk about his day while Lance listens intently, throwing in quips now and then.

They arrive at his and Pidge’s apartment shortly, and Lance rushes inside to get the detergent and finally have clean clothes. It’s because of Lance they leave the door unlocked, he always barges in unexpectedly when he feels like it.

“Hey Pidge, I just need to get detergent,” he greets them without a glance, making a bee line towards Hunk’s room.

“Lance,” Pidge calls out, which normally they wouldn’t (too caught up in their own devices), so he looks over.

Keith is sitting on their beat up couch with them, a textbook on his lap and he’s obviously trying hard to focus on the words on the page but failing.

_“That kiss meant nothing”_

The words hit him like a brick all over again, and Lance straightens up from where he’s standing.

“Hey.”

He hopes Keith knows he’s talking to him, though he’ll never know since Hunk disrupts with a long, exhausted yawn.

“I am ready to knock out,” he says first thing, “Lance my detergent is underneath my bed.”

“R-right,” he stammers, but doesn’t move his feet there.

“We’re just working on a lab,” Pidge tells them, though it looks more directed at Lance than anyone.

“You wanna stay for dinner Lance? I was gonna cook something, or we can get takeout,” Hunk asks him, and Lance wonders if he’s trying to lessen the tension in the room or if he genuinely does not sense how uncomfortable this situation is.

“Uh, I’m good, I think. I gotta head back to the frat,” his voice is quiet, he realizes, and he finally hurries into Hunk’s room to get his fresh smelling laundry detergent. It’s right where he said it was, next to a box of those star shaped fruit snacks he really enjoys and a collection of old comics.

He grabs it and goes, leaving without another word.


	3. twisted ankles and beanies

Lance doesn’t think of Keith again until he sees him the following week in the library. He doesn’t think the other sees him, too immersed in his reading to divert his attention elsewhere. 

“Look at him,” Lance whispers to Shiro, who happened to drop by five minutes prior and saw his frat brother working the front desk. It’s hilarious really, everyone joked about Lance working at such a quiet setting given how loud he could be. “Screw you!” he told his frat brothers when they all teased him about it, “I can be quiet when I need to be!”. However, in reality it wasn’t as easy as he presumed it would be.

“Uh, who?” Shiro leans against the desk, a puzzled look on his face. He follows Lance’s intent glare.

“Oh. Keith’s here,” he realizes upon detecting his friend among many students.

“What!?” Lance almost yells, but quickly catches himself since he’s already been told to keep it down twice today. And his shift only started an hour ago.

“Wait, you know him?” Shiro drops his hands to his side, “when did you guys meet?”

“Do _I_ ,” Lance scoffs, “your buddy over there randomly kissed me about two weeks ago.”

He sounds harsh about it though he’s not. Not about the kissing anyway. The ignoring and pretending he doesn’t exist part, yeah, he was harsh about that. 

Shiro sputters, unable to find words to speak.

“Wait, how do you know him?” Lance asks, equally as confused as the older. First Pidge, now Shiro? Did everyone know this guy?

“He was my roommate last year. Did I not tell you about him?”

“Bro, I spent most of last year doing study abroad in Mexico.” Which, by the way, great experience. Lance had come back tanner than ever with enough stories to tell to last his entire lifetime. He also wouldn’t stop speaking Spanish for an entire month, forcing Pidge, Hunk, and his frat brothers to ultimately learn a couple phrases here and there.

“Right, right,” Shiro remembers, “well, yeah, that was him. You guys are the same year you know.”

“Yeah, apparently he’s Pidge’s lab partner, too. Two weeks I didn’t know a thing about this guy and now I see him everywhere! What’s up with that,” he sighs, resting his head against his palm. He wishes Keith would look over his direction just so he could see the daggers his eyes were sending his way. Of all seven floors, he _had_ to choose the first one.

“Why does the universe hate me,” he grumbles to himself.

“Wait…so you’re the guy Keith kissed at the puppy event then?” Shiro’s jaw drops in shock when it finally hits him. He looks like he’s just seen his grandma naked or something.

“Did he tell you about it?” Lance perks up instantly, grabbing his friend’s wrist, “what did he say? Did he say anything about me? Shiro, you gotta tell me!”

By now he’s shaking Shiro’s wrist aggressively, no shame in how embarrassingly eager he is to know every detail. Shiro withdraws Lance’s grasp from his wrist and tells him to calm down before he gets scolded at for being too loud again. 

“He didn’t really say much, just told me he saw his ex at our house and then kissed some guy to get away from the situation. He didn’t tell me it was you though.”

His answer does nothing for Lance but leave him unsettled that Keith hadn’t even mentioned his name. 

“Alright, well I gotta head to class now,” Shiro tells him, looking at his watch, “I’ll see you back at the house tonight.”

Shiro’s strong hand claps against his own, and then he’s off. Lance returns to organizing books in the cart next to him and tries not to look at Keith for the rest of his shift.

+

The next time Lance bumps into Keith, he quite literally bumps into him. 

Lance groans at the sight, displeasure blatantly oozing out every orifice, “God, the universe really _does_ hate me.”

Keith sighs, brushing the shoulder off that touched the other, “It’s not like I’m certainly delighted to see you either.”

“We’d get along maybe, if you weren’t such an asshole every time you saw me,” Lance picks up his fallen textbook as well as Keith’s notebook, shoving it to his chest.

It’s a month now since Keith kissed him, not that either of them were keeping track. 

“That’s the biggest joke I’ve ever heard,” he responds, snatching his textbook from Lance’s hands. Neither of them have anywhere to be, it was Friday afternoon and they were both done for the day. Which left them standing here in the middle of the quad, intense narrowed eyes and folded arms at each other.

Lance gives up, “Fine, whatever. You’re missing out on a great friendship buddy.”

“Yeah, right,” Keith snorts.

And he really would’ve left it at that, but now it just seemed like Keith was attacking his ability of having a solid friendship, and he would not stand there and take this criticism.

“What’s your problem with me anyway? Last I recall, _you_ forced _me_ to kiss you. Shouldn’t I be angry with you?” It’s said in such sharp, biting tone that it even throws himself off. 

“Yeah, I apologized, and then you proceeded to pull such a typical frat boy move and asked me for my number. I don’t know if you couldn’t tell, but I have no interest in you,” he barks back at him, leaning in closer as if to emphasis his point.

Lance doesn’t let the scathing comment get to him.  “Don’t lash out on me for being in such a shitty mood that day. You should thank me from saving you from your mess.”

“ _As if_. You did nothing standing there stone cold like a statue. Have you ever kissed someone before?” Keith smirks, ignoring the guilt eating at him from the inside for such a ruthless insult. He really thinks he’s got him there but, needless to say, Lance retaliates. 

“ _My_ bad, I just couldn’t get the image of you flustered and desperate, practically _begging_ for me to kiss you—”

“God, do you ever shut up?” 

Lance cutthroat eyes meet Keith’s, and neither of them look like they’re gonna back down any time soon. Bystander’s are probably looking at the situation with either of the two possible thoughts: 1) fight! fight! fight! or 2) what the hell is going on. 

It feels like they stand there for an eternity, until Keith spits out “forget it” and stalks off. Of course Lance doesn’t leave it at though. 

He follows behind him. 

“Don’t just leave me hanging Keith,” he says, clutching onto the straps of his backpack. 

“I’m gonna leave you hanging dude. I have better things to do.”

Lance cackles at that, “Right.”

They’re headed towards a bike rack, Keith yanking his keys from his back pocket. He finds his bike, a black fixie, unlocks it and hops on.

“Well, I’ll see you later then.”

“What if I don’t intend on seeing you later,” Lance seethes with rage, feeling defeated that Keith was just taking off like this.

He doesn’t respond to him and bikes away. 

+

“I hate him, I really do fucking hate him,” he’s telling some girl later that night. He’s downed four shots of vodka and two cans of beer already, seated on a leather couch in the frat’s living room with some girl he met about five minutes ago. 

“Who are we talking about?” She furrows her eyebrows and takes a swig from her red plastic cup before setting it down on the table in front of them.

“He’s been going on about some guy named Keith for like, an entire hour now,” one of his frat brothers tells the girl. He thinks her name is Leia? 

_No, fuck, I’m just thinking about Star Wars_

He takes his own cup from the table and drinks some more, despite feeling more drunk than he intended to be tonight. 

“Yeah! Fuck Keith!” He holds his cup out in front of him with a pout, some of the drink sloshes out onto his hand and on the carpet, and then brings it to his lips again. It’s some mix of rum and Coke. He doesn’t recall pouring it. The girl suddenly steals it from his hand, to which he whines about, but doesn’t do anything to take back. She leaves him sitting there, decides to go have her own fun, which Lance thinks is reasonable. He wouldn’t wanna be stuck sitting with some stranger moping about some other guy either. 

The frat house is throwing a party, it’s been a while after all, and Lance wasn’t planning on getting absolutely hammered tonight, but as the night progressed that’s where he seemed to be headed. The party was already in the full swing of things, most people dancing to some throwback R&B song that everyone knew the lyrics to. Either that or chatting among others. Or making out in some room. Just your typical college party. The room had very dim lighting, just pink and green colors reflecting off the walls. Which would probably explain why Lance kept thinking he was seeing Keith everywhere. He wished Hunk or Pidge were at least here. Shiro was off to God knows where with Allura. 

_Good for him_

Lance gets up from the couch, some guy sitting next to him has to help him up before he stumbles on his feet. He appreciates the aid silently, still stumbles though. 

A group of people he knows from one of his classes ( _Psych? Bio?_ ) enthusiastically come up to him. They initiate a conversation he doesn’t really want to get into, but he puts on a fake smile and nods to their words anyway, even though words don’t register in his head right now. They don’t seem to notice how completely wasted he was because they keep the conversation going until Lance has to excuse himself. He hears a Drake song blast through the speakers and everyone goes wild. 

And he would, too, who doesn’t like Drake?, but his head hurts too much and it’s probably because he’s still thinking about goddamn Keith. 

“Fuck,” he groans. 

“Hey man, what’s up?” he hears Shiro’s voice, he’s not really sure he can see him though. 

“I gotta… I need to go to my room,” he trips over the first step of the staircase, and Shiro quickly catches him from meeting the floor headfirst.

“Yeah, yeah hold on, I’ll get you there.”

He hears him talking to someone else, probably Allura, before he feels an arm around his middle and is led upstairs to his bedroom.

“Leave it off,” Lance grimaces when the lights are switched on. It stings his eyes. His request is soon fulfilled and Shiro places him on his bed, using the minimal light from the hallway to guide him. The music sounds faded from his room, but it still hurts his head nevertheless. 

“You good? Do you need to talk about something?” Shiro grabs a half full water bottle by his bed stand and hands it to him. 

“I just really fucking hate Keith,” he blurts out without much thought. His tiredly rests his head on his hands and sinks further on his bed. 

“W-wait, Lance, what?” Shiro kneels down, confused, always the lost puppy, but then he sighs and decides not to push it any further.

“Drink some water and get some rest,” he orders very fatherly-like, pushing the water bottle to his side, “I’ll stay here with you.”

Lance sits up, shaking his head. He can barely keep his eyes open.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. You can go. Thanks man,” he lazily pats his shoulder and opens the cap of his bottle. Three long gulps and it’s finished. The bottle is thrown to the side and Lance lays down again.

“Lance—”

“Shiro, go. I’m fine.”

He’s not really fine. But he knows Allura is out there waiting for him, and although she’s nice enough to understand, he doesn’t want to deprive them of their limited time together. 

“Alright,” he gets up hesitantly, “but I’ll check up on you in an hour, okay?”

Lance throws him a thumbs up, mostly trying to stop the thumping in his head. He hears his door close, left in the darkness of his room. 

“Fuck Keith.”

+

Keith decides to go for a late night run to the convenience store to pick up some ramen. It probably wasn’t the best time to be out, most people coming from partying with hungry stomachs and foggy judgements. He dodged at least four drunkards already, luckily only one has stopped to talk to him, only asking for the time. 

“12:13.”

“Thanks man! Have a good night,” he giggles, and continues walking down the side walk with his friends, who look equally as drunk as him. 

He makes it to the 7/11, and after many trips here, Keith has it ingrained in his memory that ramen was stored fourth aisle. When he rounds the corner, he is met with familiar faces. 

“Pidge,” he says. They’re with their roommate, Hunk, whom Keith has also taken a liking too after a few study sessions at their apartment. 

“Hey Keith,” they both greet him, hands full with snacks. They’re trying to grab a packet of ramen, but wasn’t working out too well with hands occupied. 

“Do you mind grabbing two shrimp Cup Noodles for us?” Hunks asks him and his head gestures over to the product to their left. 

“Yeah,” Keith lightly chuckles. He grabs some for himself as well, the chicken flavor instead, as well as a Hershey’s bar. 

“Did the munchies get to you this late too?” Pidge teases, dropping all their snacks in the counter in front of the cashier. Their total comes out to $7.40.

He nods bashfully, “Couldn’t help the craving.”

“I totally feel you bro. I feel like I just crave _everything_ at this hour,” Hunk explains, holding all his products to emphasize his point. 

Keith peeks around, not spotting a particular person accompanied with them. 

“Is Lance not with you guys?” He asks in a low voice, pretending to read the contents of his Hershey’s bar to seem casual about it. 

“Nah, his frat threw a party tonight,” Hunk answers, now setting all his snacks on the counter. 

“Oh,” his shoulders slump. 

“I’m sure the party is still going on if you wanna see him,” Hunk added, looking unsuspicious compared to his roommate. 

“Actually,” Pidge pipes in before he has time to confirm he most definitely _does not_ want to see Lance, “Shiro texted me about 15 minutes ago. He said Lance had too much to drink and got all emotional and stuff. He had to put him to bed early.”

Hunk pays for his food and moves out of the way for Keith. 

Except Keith’s interest is piqued at Pidge’s statement. His eyebrows raise and he has the urge to text Shiro himself to see what’s up.

“$3.10,” the cashier tells him, looking unamused and rather dead. He would too if he were working this late. 

“I hope he’s okay,” Hunk looks worried, and he pulls his own phone out and says he’s gonna text Lance himself. 

He knows he’s in no place to say anything about the situation, he literally butt heads with Lance 10 hours ago. Though he can’t help but think he was somewhat responsible for Lance’s behavior. When he left him earlier at the bike rack, he did look a bit hurt. But he keeps quiet, pays for his food, and walks with the two until they part ways. 

And then he gets his phone out. 

Unsure of what to say, he gets cold feet.

“Why do I care,” he mumbles to himself, trying to find a reason of why he _should_ care. 

He unlocks the door to his apartment, finding his appetite gone as soon as he opens his ramen. His poor phone gets tossed to the couch in frustration. 

The chocolate bar would have to do. It would help keep his mind preoccupied.

The same question gets repeated in his head until he musters enough courage to just text Shiro. He lays on the couch and pulls for his phone wedged between two cushions. He knows Shiro knows they know each other. He made a whole fiasco out of it, barging into his apartment unannounced (“Why didn’t you tell me it was _Lance_ you kissed!?” “I didn’t think it mattered?” “I’m close to him Keith.” “And?”).

Keith: What’s up?

He’s surprised to see Shiro text back so instantaneously. 

Shiro: Not much, why

Keith: Ur not partying?

Shiro: How did you know we were having a party tonight

Keith: I have ears

Shiro: Really now?

Keith wants to stomp over to the party just to punch him in the face. 

Keith: Yes. And u didn’t answer my question

Shiro: I’m watching over Lance

Keith: He ok?

Shiro doesn’t reply back for a while. In the mean time he munches on his chocolate bar and pulls Netflix open on his laptop. There isn’t anything specific that catches his eye so he exits out. He thumps his fingers against the couch in boredom. The dingy fan looks like it’s about to fall off again, he makes a note to remind the landlord about it someday. 

Five minutes later and his phone buzzes. 

Shiro: Sorry, was taking care of Lance. He just threw up in the toilet and now he’s knocked out.

Keith: Gross. 

Shiro: He’s gonna wake up with a killer hangover tomorrow. But he’s alright.

That’s all Keith needs to know, so he snuggles into the couch and falls asleep. 

+

Lance meets his professor outside of class to discuss their term paper. It’s officially autumn, the leaves have begun to wither and drop and students have begun to pull out their knit sweaters and scarves. Furthermore, it meant Thanksgiving was coming soon, and then Christmas—Lance’s favorite time of the year. _And away from the stress of work._

“I think your paper will turn out just fine Lance,” his professor confirms after he’s run by a few ideas to him. He slides him over his notes, diligently taken because it’s Lance, and gets up from his seat in the school’s coffee shop. 

Lance stands up with him.  “Thank you!” He smiles excitedly, though he dreads the idea of actually writing it, “and thanks for meeting me, I know you’re probably busy—” 

“Don’t worry about it,” his professor cuts him off before he even finishes, “I do have to head out now. E-mail me if you have any other questions.”

Lance nods, then lets out an exhale once his professor is out of sight. While he’s here, he orders a coffee with a shot of expresso and figures he should probably grab some lunch too. Fortunately, their’s a nearby Panda Express that would do just the trick for his grumbling stomach. 

He crosses the lawn to head over, looking over his Instagram feed and sipping from his coffee. Allura posted a selfie 47 minutes ago, and he inwardly grimaces at the heart eye emojis Shiro comments. There’s some public speaker across the lawn preaching about something Lance can faintly hear but doesn’t have the time to check out. His next lecture is in 45 minutes, and he’s a slow eater so he needs all the time he can get with his lunch. 

Luckily for him, the line isn’t too bad at Panda (he waits and plays a little Pokemon Go), so he quickly orders his go-to box meal—teriyaki chicken and chow mein—and sits down outside. 

There’s a lot going on campus today, as per usual, but it merely becomes white noise for him as he eats his lunch. Despite his devotion to his frat, being away for them could be very blissful, liberating. With them it was typically cracking jokes and talking future social events (which he’s gone to less frequently now, thanks to school). Alone, he could find some peace of mind.

And in your regular run-of-the-mill fashion, his peace of mind is disturbed. 

“Yeah… yeah… _yeah_ ,” Keith complained while on the phone. He was walking towards Lance, and if he weren’t staring at the ground very annoyingly, he’d probably see him. 

Lance decides to do nothing about it, flashbacks of _that one party_ coming into mind, and he urgently shakes his head. 

But Keith has a maroon beanie pulled over his mullet (a ridiculous choice of hairstyle) and he looks cozy in his cream sweatshirt thats looks a bit too oversized for his frame. Something about fall clothes were so enticing, especially on Keith, because, well, he’s pretty. He’s walking with his bike in tow and he looks very uninterested in whatever phone call he was having. Lance snorts to himself, and then continues his lunch.

The sound of a skateboard arouses his attention. It’s some man on a longboard carrying a massive box blocking his line of vision, and _who the hell thought that would be a good idea_. He’s shouting “move out of the way” at passerby’s, who rush to let the guy through. However, Keith is still walking down the same path and if he doesn’t move then he’s going to get pummeled into cement. Lance starts to feel uncomfortable where he’s sitting, an impulse beating his head telling him to do something. And then he remembers Keith’s unsparing comments the other day and _fuck Keith_ , but out of the goodness of his heart he can’t just let him get hurt.

He realizes he could’ve just called out to him, that would’ve also saved him the trouble. But no, _noooo_ , he decides to actively go and do something about the dangerous situation. Keith’s gaze is still on the ground when Lance takes his arm and bike handlebars, swerving it his direction and away from the skater. The bike falls at the unstable placement it’s at and Keith loses his footing and crashes into Lance’s chest. But better that than a fast-moving skater, so Lance is thankful. 

When Keith looks up at him, his face is contorted in wretched pain and it’s not exactly what Lance expected. 

“Ouch,” he winces, his eyes fly shut, “Lance, what the hell?”

He thinks about saying something like “I just saved your life” or “thank me for that”, but Keith looks in obvious anguish so he drops it without a second thought. 

“What, what’s wrong?”

“My ankle,” Keith hisses, and then realizes he’s holding onto Lance for support and retracts himself, “what the hell were you thinking?”

_Patience Lance, patience._ This could easily turn into another heated quarrel and that’s not what he wanted to erupt into right now in the busiest part of campus at one of the busiest hours. 

“Some guy was coming down on his skateboard,” he explains to him calmly, hoping Keith is picking up what he’s putting down. Evidently he does, because his features soften up and he coughs awkwardly.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Here, sit down.”

He helps Keith to his spot earlier, walking the bike with him, and finds his fork on the the ground and his backpack carelessly laying there. _How fast did I get up to save him?_

The injured man flinches once they’re seated and Lance is checking his ankle. 

“My little brother used to always twist his ankle, so I’m pretty used to this,” he lightly touches Keith’s ankle in various spots, asking where it hurts predominantly. His eyes are fixed on it, and he looks genuinely concerned. Keith gulps.

“It’s fine,” he pulls his foot away from Lance’s long fingers, “I can handle a twisted ankle.”

“You sure man? I have ice back at my place if you want—”

“No,” he interjects immediately, “I’m good.”

Lance isn’t buying it but he also doesn’t want to make him feel uneasy. So he clasps his hands together and sits back down. Neither of them speak, and Lance can’t even enjoy his meal now that his fork is on the ground. 

“Hey Lance,” Keith finally says, nervously pulling his beanie over his ears, “thanks.”

Lance turns over to look at him, and he doesn’t look infuriated at him like all the other times. His lips curl up in a smile and his foot presses down on a dried up leaf next to him. He found the sound of it oddly pleasing to his ears. 

“No problem Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a friendship is forming!!!!!!
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	4. smoothies and libraries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRRRRRRY this is long overdue. i just started my 2nd year of college so i've been settling in and whatnot. hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Wait, you _saved_ him?”

Lance nods, a smug, pride look on his face, “That’s right Hunk. It’s safe to say things are looking up for us now.”

“You’re like…like… his knight in shining armor!” Hunk sets his barbecue potato chips down on Lance’s messy bed and lays down over his blue comforter, “have you talked to him since then?”

The other shuffles around where he’s standing, “Uh, well… no, not really, but… you know, it’s just ‘cuz I haven’t seen him around recently!”

“Well he’s over at mine all the time doing homework with Pidge. Come over whenever,” Hunk hums nonchalantly to some tune of whatever game he's playing on his phone.

“Oh. Okay.”

Lance isn’t sure if he’ll take Hunk up on that offer, after all he wasn’t actually sure how things were with Keith. Sure, Keith had thanked him after saving him and they parted ways in far less bitter terms than all the previous times, but did that makes them friends now? Could Lance stop him in the middle of seeing him heading to class and walk with him? Could they grab coffee together? 

“Dude, you look stressed,” Hunk interrupts his train of thought, “are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he assures him, though more like assuring himself, then takes his cap off his head to throw it down on the floor with all his others. He sighs, “Hunk, you know Keith and I kissed, right?”

Hunk immediately sits up, “Uh, what?!”

“Oh. Shit. I guess I forgot to tell you.” Lance is doing his nervous habit of playing with fingers and avoiding eye contact with Hunk, and normally Hunk would call him out on it, but he doesn’t this time. 

“I’m offended man, you tell me everything!”

“I know, I know,” Lance takes a seat next to his friend and rests his head on his shoulder. The heat radiating off Hunk’s body makes Lance feel warm and comfortable. 

“It was at that puppy thing we had here a month or so ago. He saw his ex and needed an escape route so he kissed me,” he explains, reaching for a barbecue chip. 

“Okay. So?”. 

“What do you mean ‘so’?”

“So,” he dragged out the word, “did you like it? Do you like him? Is that where this rivalry is coming from?”

“No! No,” Lance isn’t sure what he’s saying no to, “And I don’t have a rivalry with him. Well, I guess I sorta do, but it’s not that I _want it._ I just…” He doesn’t know how to finish his sentence off. Because he doesn’t like Keith, not like that. He’s attractive, a sight for sore eyes for sure, even though, ironically, seeing him made him agitated.

“I get it,” Hunk says, but Lance isn’t sure what exactly he gets because he’s not even sure he gets it himself. But he doesn’t question it.

Someone knocks on his door.

“Come in,” Lance calls out to the person.

The door opens and Shiro’s there, standing with a tray of colorful smoothies in one hand, “hey guys.”

“Hey Shiro!” Hunk greets him enthusiastically, “what’s up?”

“I just visited Allura at work and she gave me some free smoothies for you guys.”

Both boys excitedly jump up from the bed and rush over to him, picking out which flavor they wanted. Hunk gets a pineapple mango while Lance takes the strawberry banana. 

“The other two are for Pidge and uh,” he coughs awkwardly and avoids looking Lance in the eye, “Keith. I gotta head to lecture, do you guys mind being delivery boys for me?”

Lance pauses at Keith’s name. 

“Yeah! They should be over at mine anyway, so it’d be no problem,” Hunk answers, taking the tray from Shiro’s arm, “tell Allura we say thanks!”

“Y-yeah,” Lance nods in agreement, sipping from his drink. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Keith, it’d be nice to check up on him and see how his ankle was doing, but the question of _what if he still hates me_ lingers in his thoughts.

“I don’t think he hates you, though,” Shiro says. 

“Goddammit, was I thinking out loud?” Lance groans in frustration and belly flops back down onto his bed.

“Lance,” Shiro joins him on the bed and puts a sympathetic hand on his back and pats it, “Keith doesn’t hate you.”

Despite repeating the words, Lance still didn’t believe them. 

“Right,” he scoffed, “you should ask him about the things he said to me the other week.”

“Yeah but… didn’t you save him just the other day?”

Lance’s eyes widen at that, taken aback, “How did you—?!”

“He told me.”

Shiro and Hunk watch amusedly at how Lance stammers about, trying to find words to say. 

“Wait, wait… he told you? What did he say?”

“He was thankful that you took care of him.”

“Who wouldn’t be?” Hunk snorts, “see Lance! You have nothing to worry about.”

“You know it’s funny, I think he thinks that you hate him, too,” Shiro tells him with a chuckle, “you guys should probably settle that.”

It doesn’t take much longer until Lance is hurrying Hunk out the door with the smoothies in hand. Lance made it clear that he wanted to make it clear to Keith that he most definitely did _not_ hate him and hopefully this whole mess could be fixed. Yeah, he cursed at Keith that whole night at the party, but he didn’t need to know about that and alcohol always made him say crazy things anyway. He ignored the feeling biting at him in the back of head telling him it was something else, something more, but he could deal with that later. 

Luckily the frat house isn’t too far from where Hunk and Pidge live, around a five minute walk past a couple food joints, and there they were. 

“Oh he’s definitely here,” Hunk confirms for him once he sees Keith’s motorcycle parked out front.

“He drives a motorcycle?!” Lance gawks at it, but the longer he thinks about it, the more he thinks he can’t see him riding anything else. It suits him quite well.

“Um, yeah?” Keith’s voice grabs their attention. He’s standing by the porch, his keys in his hand and looking directly at Lance. Oh yeah, definitely a sight for sore eyes. Though, Lance wasn’t feeling as agitated seeing him as he normally would’ve. Not when Keith was wearing another knit sweater and beanie (a forest green color this time). Lance briefly pondered over if Keith had a whole beanie collection. 

“Hey Keith,” Hunk waves, “Shiro got some free smoothies from—”

“I DON’T HATE YOU!” Lance shouts before Hunk can finish, deciding his outburst was far more important and the smoothies could wait.

Keith has a shocked, yet bewildered, very bewildered, look plastered on his face, “What?”

“I’m just gonna… go inside,” Hunk pipes in, and then excuses himself inside to leave Lance and Keith to themselves. 

Lance scratches the back of his head, trying to pick and choose the right words rather than blurting out whatever comes to mind, a bad habit of his. 

“I don’t hate you either,” Keith quietly speaks, throwing Lance off guard.

“ _You don’t_?! See, Shiro told me that you didn’t but I didn’t believe him because you said some pretty nasty things to me that one time, and I wasn’t sure if you still felt the same and okay, maybe I was a bit an asshole too, but I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t the only one being an asshole. I’m sorry too. For all the nasty things I said.”

They stand in silence for a while before Lance’s eyes catch his ankle. 

“How’s your ankle doing? Does it still hurt?”

“Oh,” he glances down at it, “no, it’s fine. Thanks.”

“That’s good,” Lance nods his head, trying to fill the awkward silence between them, “oh! Here’s your smoothie.”

Lance noted that the flavor was blueberry banana, Shiro told him it was his favorite from the smoothie place Allura worked at. He decided to keep that in mind for future reference. Hunk always said he personally enjoyed the little details about a person that Lance kept tucked away in his memory storage, he only assumed Keith would appreciate it all the same. 

“Thanks,” Keith takes it from his hand, his fingers lightly brushing against Lance’s. The small physical contact makes him feel… something, but he quickly dismisses it and drinks some of the smoothie. 

“Alright, well, I’ll see you around,” Keith says, swinging his leg over his motorcycle. He takes the beanie off his head and clips a matte black helmet as its replacement. Lance doesn’t pay attention to how he looks on a motorcycle, except he does, because of course the shorter man looks good on a bike. _Of course_.

“Okay,” Lance responds, drinking from his smoothie because he can feel his throat drying up, “it was nice clearing that up.”

Lance can’t see Keith give a small smile under his helmet, but he hears him agree to his statement before he revs up the engine and begins backing out. Nothing else is exchanged between the two of them, and Keith rides off. 

Lance ignores the teasing Pidge gives him when he walks inside their apartment (“Congratulations Lance, I’m pretty sure the whole complex now knows you don’t hate Keith,” they snickered. He might’ve thrown a pillow at them at that). 

+

Keith is absolutely swamped with school work and finds himself unable to focus at all the wrong times. He’s sitting in the library, he prefers studying here than at his apartment where the neighbors above him are always having sex disturbingly loud enough for the whole world to know. And he’s always gone to the library, since freshman year, but it wasn’t until now that it became a distraction for him. Because Lance works front desk nearly every time he’s there, and it was as if the universe was a strong supporter of the two of them just being together. As friends, Keith convinces himself, just as friends. 

Although it’s not entirely the universe’s fault, because he could go on another floor where Lance wasn’t working, but he didn’t want to succumb to that, and he believed he could indubitably get his classwork done efficiently and effectively even if Lance was across the room from him being as sociable as ever, in a goddamn library of all places. It amazed him just how many people he knew at this school. 

Keith would watch as some of his frat brothers (at least, he assumed they were all in his frat) walked in to chat with him every now and then, one even sneaking him in a coffee, to which Keith enjoyed watching Lance try and drink from it without getting caught. Except he wasn’t supposed to be watching him, he was supposed to be working. But anyone with eyes could see that Keith was definitely doing anything but that. Especially if that anything involved staring fondly at Lance Sanchez. 

He was glad things were better between them. They still insulted each other, but now no longer laced with harsh undertones, instead replaced with fun and laughter. Lance had stopped him several times on his way to class to say hey, but things haven’t progressed much past that. Shiro suggested asking Lance to hang out, but he wasn’t sure if that was too sudden of a development. 

“We can’t just go from shouting at each other’s faces one second to grabbing some lunch the next,” Keith rolled his eyes at Shiro when he told him. 

But Shiro, as happy-go-lucky as ever smiled, “Sure you can!”

And now, while Keith was staring at Lance as he shelves books away, he was suddenly feeling tempted to just do it. He didn’t know much about Lance after all, and getting to know him would be nice. Pidge had mentioned a few things about him, like his major (physics), that he came from a massive family, slept with a night light up until sophomore year of college, and that he wasn’t as stereotypical of a frat boy as he might lead on. Keith made Pidge swear to secrecy that they would never let anyone know the reason he came over was to get details about Lance. Shiro probably would’ve been a better person to go to, now that he thinks about it (Pidge and Lance were too close of friends, asking them was risky), but he was always busy with frat business and Allura. 

Keith catches Lance talking to some girl, definitely flirting given the look on his face, so he turns away and tries to do his Asian American studies reading. But he finds himself reading the same line over and over again, and no matter how many times he’s read it, it simply doesn’t process in his head. So he counts to sixty before looking up to see Lance looking at him, the girl he was flirting with still standing there looking perplexed. His face starts to heat up and he doesn’t know how to react. Luckily, Lance just waves at him with a grin.

And then he begins approaching him. 

_Shit_. Maybe not so lucky.

Keith fixes up his hair, probably a mess from pulling at it too much while trying to concentrate, and tidies up his work space. He’s not sure why it matters, Lance probably doesn’t give two shits, but he does it anyway.

“Hey,” Lance says once he reaches him, “how long have you been here, I didn’t see you until now.”

“A couple of hours. Two, three maybe?” He hopes he sounds as casual as he thinks he does. 

“Oh. Dude, I work here!”

Keith wants to say that he knows, he’s known for about a week now because he always notices when Lance walks in to take his shift. 

“Shouldn’t you be working right now?” He raises his brow, leaning against his chair. Lance is wearing a navy blue cardigan over a white v-neck and he can smell his cologne from where he’s sitting. It's heavy, smells like a mix of lavender and nutmeg, which somehow perfectly matches Lance, in Keith’s opinion. He also notices that he has his nails painted an obnoxious yellow color. It looks good on him though. As per usual, he has a cap on his head, donned backwards. 

“Nah, it’s fine,” he says with a wave of his hand, “What are you working on?”

Keith rambles on over all the work he needs to get done, all his pent up stress finally letting loose, and that he hasn’t actually done much (God forbid he tells Lance that he’s the reason why), and Lance listens. It’s the quietest Keith has ever seen him, he thinks.

“That’s rough. Good luck man. I need to finish up my homework by tonight too. Allura’s birthday party is tomorrow night and I wanna make sure I have everything done before then so Sunday I have all day to recover from my potential hangover,” he chuckles. 

“Oh, you’re right,” Keith realizes. Shiro had mentioned Allura’s birthday party and he likes Allura, so Shiro didn’t need to do much begging for him to decide to go. 

“Are you going to that?” Lance asks him, tugging on the sleeves of his cardigan after shivering from the cold in the library. 

“Uh, yeah, I think so.”

“Great! I’ll see you there then! I may or may not be completely gone by the time you’re there.”

“Ugh, you’re such a frat boy,” Keith rolls his eyes. 

“ _Oh shut up_ , I haven’t partied in a while in preparation for this,” he starts to get up and then stops. 

“Can I see your pen?” He asks, but goes for it anyway. 

Keith is confused as Lance scribbles something down on his notes, which, he normally would’ve been mad at that, but oh well. When he slides the paper back to him, he sees a phone number scrawled above the header. 

“Now you have my number,” he grins again, flashing his pearly white teeth, “good luck again, with your homework.”

Lance leaves before Keith has a chance to say something, which is better, since he’s not sure what he’d say anyway. He’s sure he’s as beet red as a tomato, too. His eyes gloss over the number on his notes and he sighs. 

_“Fuck.”_


	5. costumes and vodka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> keith shouldn't drink alcohol

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hel! lo! every! body! i wish i had time to update this more frequently but school/work gets in the way :/ enjoy this chapter though!

Keith ponders over texting Lance. Not just once, many, _many_ times. 

He’s pacing around his kitchen, waiting for the kettle to whistle with his dark eyes glued to his phone in his hands.

“He gave it to me for a reason,” he tells himself, hoping he can talk himself into just doing it.

It’s Saturday afternoon, approximately five hours before Allura’s birthday party. Keith has a nice coffee mug wrapped for her sitting in the coffee table of his living room. All credits go to Shiro of course, otherwise he probably would’ve shown up empty handed. Or with some gift card.

He sets his phone down on the table when the kettle begins to whistle to make his jasmine tea. What better way to contemplate over Lance than with a warm cup of tea?

“This would’ve been a lot easier if he had my number,” he thinks aloud. 

_Lance would probably have no problem when it comes to texting people. How many contacts does he have on his phone anyway? Tons no doubt. He probably just gives his number out to anyone for all I know!_

He groans, taking his cup of tea and self to the kitchen table. The TV is playing some early 2000s rom-com movie, Keith decides to leave it on for background noise. The quietness of the apartment without it was feeding to his relentless thoughts of Lance. 

“But I’ll see him tonight anyway,” he finally decides after a sip that burns his tongue slightly. His decision finally puts him at peace and less disturbed (somewhat) and he sinks into the couch more comfortably and relaxed, shifting his attention to the movie. The main girl is mulling over what to wear for, ironically enough, a party she’s going tonight to impress some guy. Keith rolls his eyes over the cliche-ness of it, but then he begins to wonder what _he’ll_ wear tonight. Given any normal night for any normal party, he wouldn’t care. But Lance was going to be there. 

Keith groans once more, putting his cup down and heading to his room to find an outfit for tonight. Despite doing laundry and thus leaving a handful of options to choose from, everything seemed so lacking. 

So, naturally, he rings Shiro up.

“Hey Keith, what’s up!”

“Hey,” he says, looking through each item of clothing he owns, “uh, I’m having a problem.”

“What is it? I can’t come over because with I’m with Allura, but—”

“No, no it’s fine,” he sighs, defeated at what his closet has to offer, “I just… I don’t really know what to wear tonight.”

“Oh. Well I told you the party is themed right?”

Keith halts. _Oh shit._ He might’ve forgotten about that tiny detail.

“I’m guessing you forgot?” Shiro chuckles on the the other line.

“Yeah,” he runs his hand through his hair, “shit, what’s the theme again? Please not anything stupid.”

“It’s A-themed for Allura. So anything that starts with ‘A’ really. I’m sure you can whip something up. I’m going as an aviator if that gives you any idea!”

“It’s still too early for Halloween,” Keith grumbles, now even more stressed over what to wear than he was five minutes ago, “do you know what, like, Lance is going as?”

There’s silence for a while, almost too silent. Keith wonders if Shiro hung up. 

“No, I don’t,” he finally replies, “I know Pidge will be an astronaut though!”

There’s another voice Keith can make out as Allura that interrupts their conversation, but the words are indistinguishable.

“Ohhh!!” Shiro makes a noise of excitement suddenly, “Keith! If you come over an hour or so before the party then Allura will help you out!”

“What does that mean,” Keith cautions, skeptical of where this could be going. Except he was desperate and Allura was his last hope. 

“Don’t worry man! It’ll be great! I’ll see you in a bit,”

He hangs up, a perplexed Keith left crouched in front of his mess of a closet. 

+

He shows up a bit later than what Shiro advised, finding himself rushing to park his motorcycle and into the house.

“I said an hour before, not 15 minutes!” the older man says, but he’s laughing between words so Keith knows he isn’t actually mad. Additionally, the smell coming off Shiro and the slur of his words tells him that he’s already begun tonight’s festivities.

“I know, I know, I overslept a bit, sorry.”

He’s being led upstairs to Allura’s room in a frantic hurry, ignoring the looks all the other girls who live in the house are giving him.

“People will begin to flock over in a couple minutes so I’m gonna go get everything ready,” Shiro stops in front of a door Keith can only assume must be Allura’s, “I’ll see you down there.”

He doesn’t have time to respond because the second Shiro is gone, the birthday girl herself swings the door open and pushes Keith in.

“We’re running late Keith!” She exclaims, sitting him down in the chair in front of her vanity set.

“Yeah, my bad. And happy birthday, I left my gift with Shiro when I came in,” he scratches the back of his head, nervousness creeping up on him.

“Oh please, he’s already drunk, who knows if I’ll ever see that gift ever again,” she giggles, and Keith joins her because _she’s so right._

“So Keith,” he watches her pull out various makeup and face paint products and splay them out on the ground, “how does an alien sound?”

She’s got a smirk on her face, like she’s really, really enthusiastic to do this, and _fuck it_ , an alien does sound pretty cool so of course Keith is down for it. 

“Good,” she nods when Keith shows approval, “this might take some time so sit tight.”

+

It doesn’t take some time, it takes _a lot of time_. Keith can already hear the music blasting downstairs accompanied with loud voices indicating there was a significant amount of people here already. Even the stench of booze managed to inch it’s way into Allura’s room, surprisingly enough.

“I’m almost done,” she mumbles, dabbing a small brush over Keith’s cheeks. 

“It’s fine,” he assures her, preferring the calm of her room over the rambunctious crowd of students he knows is wreaking havoc around the house. He knows the second he steps out the room that anxious feeling is going to hit all over again.

“Anyone you’re particularly interested in seeing tonight?” Allura asks him with a hum, and she sounds like she knows _something_ , but Keith disregards her tone and shakes his head. He can feel the added weight of the prosthetic ear tips he has on.

“I don’t believe you,” she whispers, but then clasps her hands together as Keith begins to defend himself.

“You’re all done!” A satisfied squeal escapes her lips and she moves out his way so he can see his reflection in the mirror. Keith’s jaw nearly drops.

“Whoa,” he mutters, amazed at her work. 

“I know! Isn’t it amazing what makeup can do?” 

She had done patches of dark purple, alien-like skin, around his face and arms, with a shimmery gold-yellow eyeshadow applied to his lids. Plus the ears. The ears definitely added to the look. Thank God he has chosen to just wear an all black outfit, anything else would’ve distracted from his face. 

“Thanks,” he gapes at her stunning piece of work, “this is seriously really cool. I like it.”

She gives him a pleased pat on his back and then instantly shooes him out, saying she needed to finish getting ready as well. 

And then he’s back in the hallway. He pulls out his phone and sees five snapchats from Shiro (he tends to snap him frequently when he’s drunk) and that it’s well over an hour since the start time of the party. His heartbeat begins to pick up when he remembers that somewhere down there is Lance, most likely drunk as well. The thought alone has him standing frozen outside Allura’s room for a while, until he hears Hunk and Pidge.

“One of these rooms has to be hers,” Hunk says. 

“I remember Shiro saying it was the third one down on the—Keith?” 

Pidge runs up to his stilled body, clutching their astronaut helmet on their side.

“Keith? Oh man, that is you!” Hunk laughs, his apple costume shaking with him.

“Hey guys,” he greets them, feeling a bit less nervous after seeing friendly faces, “how’s the party?”

Neither of them bother to answer his question, to busy gawking and ogling at his makeup. He makes sure to credit Allura before they assume _he_ did this artwork himself, but both of them say they figured it had to be her doing.

“Man this really feels like Halloween. Without the candy of course,” Hunk sighs, and then he yanks Keith by the arm, “let’s go take a shot man!”

Pidge slips their helmet back and takes his other arm, “You can’t say no to shots with us.”

“Wait, wait, weren’t you guys looking for Allura?” Keith croaks, that all too familiar feeling welling up inside him, “I know where she is!”

“Nah, it’s okay! We’ll look for her later!” Hunk and Pidge are practically running at this point, at least that’s what it feels like, and it doesn’t seem very safe considering they’re going down the stairs. Keith protests as he’s being dragged by the pair, but he can’t help but smile over the situation. 

“I don’t even drink guys!” He confesses to them, but they respond with a fit of laugher.

“Now is a good time to start then!” Pidge winks, then points to the kitchen where the designated alcohol table is. It’s a path crowded with various people dressed like athletes, army officers, ABBA, and anything else that starts with the letter A. Keith even sees a guy with an avocado just taped to his shirt. He doesn’t see anyone else as an alien which makes him feel somewhat special. On top of that, he doesn’t fail to notice the double takes he gets from multiple people and makes a mental note to thank Allura again if he ever sees her tonight. 

The music drowns whatever Pidge and Hunk are saying (something about the bartender being gone) but then suddenly they’re in the dark kitchen lit by one small flashing strobe light. 

“I’ll only take one shot, and that’s it,” he sternly tells them.

“Weak!” Pidge sticks their tongue out, but hands him a shot glass. 

The three of them clink their glasses together after all making eye contact that meant mutual agreement they were ready. 

The taste of it burns Keith’s throat, he hasn’t had a drink in _forever_ , and vodka probably wasn’t the best way to ease back into it. He hears Pidge and Hunk laughing over God knows what, but when he looks up to ask him what’s so funny, the strobe light hits directly in his direction, thus forcing him to turn his gaze. 

And then he sees Lance.

“Holy shit,” he gasps at the sight of him.

He’s a fucking angel. 

An _angel._

Keith watches as Lance throws his head back and clutches his stomach as he’s laughing at something. He looks absolutely mesmerizing. In fact, looking at Lance felt like how puppies made you feel, or how ice cream tasted on a bad day. Keith can’t hear the sound of his laugh from where’s standing but he knows it probably sounds just as beautiful as he looks. It was as if all the lights had dimmed and all their was was Lance. 

He’s not even wearing a shirt. Just a halo, white angel wings, and white skinnies—the white looks stunning on him. An angel was very fitting. He could nearly cure depression looking like that. The people surrounding him almost don’t look worthy enough to be in his captivating presence. 

“‘Holy’ sure is right,” Pidge snickers at how fixed Keith is on Lance. 

“Fuck,” Keith feels his face begin to heat up and his palms are shaky and sweaty and he can feel the alcohol kick in already, or maybe it’s just his nerves. 

“You wanna go talk to him?” Hunk offers, pouring himself another shot for him and Pidge. 

Keith licks his lips as he stares at Lance charming those around him, and then takes both the shots Hunk has just prepared and downs them without hesitation. 

“What happened to just one shot!?” Pidge shouts over the music.

_I need to talk to him I need to talk to him I need to talk to him_

He smoothes over his hair and peers over at Lance again. Except this time the other meets his gaze and Keith’s heart nearly stops. 

Lance’s eyes widen when he sees Keith and he lowers his red cup. A small smile graces the tan man’s face. Keith can feel goosebumps all over his skin. 

“Wave him over,” Hunk says as he begins to pour yet another shot, thanks to Keith. 

“No, he’s with other people,” he gulps, still looking Lance straight in the eye.

“He likes us more,” Pidge rolls their eyes, then shouts Lance’s name. 

It cuts off their eye contact, and Keith looks away, hoping his face will cool down and his heart will revert back to it’s normal pace in the ten seconds it takes Lance to walk over. That doesn’t happen.

“Hey,” Lance grins, “I like your ears.”

_Fuck he’s so hot, I’m so screwed_

“I like your costume,” Keith blurts out. It’s only been three shots, he shouldn’t be this drunk already. Nor should they be kicking in this soon. 

Lance laughs, “thanks! But seriously man, you look amazing!”

Keith lifts an eyebrows at that.

“Your, uh, makeup, I mean,” Lance clarifies, then drinks from his cup. 

“You should’ve seen him Lance! He took three shots in the span of like thirty seconds!” Hunk tells him, squeezing in between the two, “and he said he doesn’t drink.”

Keith lightly chuckles, looking at Lance over the fringe in his eyes. His palms are still embarrassingly sweaty and he hopes the taller man doesn’t notice. 

“Would you like another one?” Lance is reaching over for the bottle on the table, not breaking eye contact with him. 

“Are you having one?” Keith immediately asks him.

“Yeah. Take one with me?"

Everything feels so dizzy, Keith realizes, and he thinks it’s more of Lance’s effect than it is the alcohol. He nods, taking the glass. They clink theirs together and down goes Keith’s fourth shot. It’s less strong than the previous one. When he looks back up Lance is smiling at him, and he looks drunk, way more than Keith is, but he still looks gorgeous, ethereal. Keith felt like he was living in seventh heaven. 

“This is fun.”

“Yeah,” Lance breathes out, wiping the vodka off his lips, “I’m glad you came.”

_I’m glad I came too._

“I’m gonna go dance,” he continues, his eyes finally looking somewhere other than Keith, which Keith doesn’t like. He’s not sure if that’s an open invitation for him to join him.

“Okay,” he responds. He may be drunk, but not drunk enough to go and dance in front of all these people. So he simply watches as Lance walks away, a tentative look on his face.

“I don’t really dance,” he tells Hunk when he turns to him and sees his “dude, what the fuck” expression on his face.

“But it’s Lance,” Pidge butts in, “you guys were nearly having sex with your eyes for Christ’s sake.”

“Please, don’t,” Keith grimaces, sulking over to find a couch to lay on away from Hunk and Pidge. Lance has already found a group of people to dance with, and that makes Keith a bit upset even though he easily could’ve joined them. Alcohol always seemed to increase the intensity of his feelings by tenfolds.

Some guy dressed as an army officer slumps over next to him on the couch, too close for comfort and tries to initiate small talk that Keith wants no part in.

“Are you here with anyone?” He asks him, and Keith already wants to punch him in the face.

He responds anyway with a scowl, “No.”

With eyes still transfixed on Lance, he didn’t plan to give this guy the time of day. That doesn’t stop him from trying to talk to him unfortunately. He already regrets not going to the dance floor. 

“Can’t you take a hint? I’m not in the mood,” he finally barks at him. The stranger scoffs, getting up from his seat and stalking off. 

Keith huffs, trying to spot a bottle of something, _anything_ , to busy himself with. 

“You okay there?”

“Fuck, not another one,” Keith sighs, then looks up and sees Shiro standing in front of him.

“Oh. Hey,” he moves to stand up, but Shiro plops his body next to Keith’s, a bit uncoordinated than usual so he ends up laying over Keith’s shoulder. 

“Why aren’t you with Lance?” He hands him his cup up after asking the question. Keith doesn’t care to ask what’s in it because he trusts Shiro, so he takes it and drinks.

“Why do I need to be with him? Why aren’t _you_ with Allura?” He bites back, the taste of the drink no longer stings, it runs down rather smoothly compared to the first one.

“I’m just saying man,” Shiro adjusts himself to a more comfortable position, which in turn is a not so comfortable position for Keith but he doesn’t mention it. 

“Just saying what?” 

“If you’re not with him, I bet my ass 20 bucks someone else is.”

“What the hell, how do you even bet your ass…” Keith starts but when he turns to look at the man in question he realizes Shiro is right. There’s a quite attractive guy shooting his shot with Lance as they finish off the dance to the Macarena (which Lance dances excellently to) and the part that hurts Keith the most is that Lance actually looks reeled in. 

“Who even is that guy?” The grip on his cup tightens and his head feels like it’s throbbing. He’s giving the guy flirting with Lance the most piercing glare he’s ever given in his life. Shiro merely shrugs in response and sings along to the next song that comes on shuffle. If he were more sober he’d be a bit more helpful, but sadly that was not the case. 

Lance and this mystery guy seem to be hitting it off pretty well from the looks of it. He even lets the other man put his hand on his shoulder and he encloses on their personal space.

Keith seethes. He hates that Lance regardless looks like a radiant, glowing _angel._ A mix of anger and sadness and jealousy whacks him all at once. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Wait, Keith, you don’t even know what’s going on over there, they could just be—”

“I don’t care,” he abruptly stands up, throwing Shiro off balance. If he weren’t so irritated he would’ve laughed at his drunk friend trying to catch himself from falling. 

“Keith!” He can hear Shiro calling his name as he races to the door, which he’s surprised he manages to find given all the people and his intoxicated state. But his feet seem to lead him swiftly to the exit and it’s not until he’s out the house when he feels like he can finally breathe. 

He stumbles onto the sidewalk and sits down on the curb, trying to collect his thoughts. The image of Lance and that guy, that undeserving guy, keeps popping up in his head and he can’t shake it off because _that should be him_. He sees his arms fervently shaking and it almost scares him how much Lance is affecting him. Even the pace of his heartbeat is faster than it was at the start of the party. He bites his lip in contemplation, bouncing his leg up and down. 

And then all of a sudden Keith is back on his feet again. He isn’t sure what comes over him, but he can blame it on the alcohol if it all goes wrong. All he knows is that _he needs to find Lance_. One small conversation wasn’t enough, he was greedy for more, more of _him._ Something almost animalistic takes over him, all hesitation and nervousness left out the door as soon as he storms back into the party with one goal set in mind. 

_I need to find him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY CLIFFHANGER!


End file.
